You only get one shot
by Jessycamore
Summary: This is a series of unrelated John and/or Sherlock one-shots, full summary inside. Give it a chance, R&R. Sorry if they suck, not my division.
1. Chapter 1

**_Full summary_- _Ok, so this, as i said, is a group of one shots about John and Sherlocks day to day life and relationship. They're not in any sort of order and they're not related in any way, they're all completely sperate from one another, and some may be dealing with the same situation but with different outcome and stuff._ So read, enjoy and review and if there's any one-shot you really enjoyed or think will make a good story let me know. (Or even if you want to deveope one into a story and i don't want to you can, as long as you tell me.)**

**I just want to say that I sort of had help writting this because the speech, was written on omegle last night and it was such a prefect scenario, i had to write it up. That however, would also explain why it may not be very good, it was written at three o'clock in the morning. This is also my first Sherlock Fic.**

**This is currently a one shot but i will probabily make it into a short-ish story if people like this or want me to so remember to review. Oh and also; Disclaimer-**** i own nothing.**

Sherlock sat at his desk, scrolling through the possible clients from his website and my blog muttering "boring" as he skimmed over each one, getting up he went to lounge on the sofa. I sat watching in the seat across the room. I love watching him work, he always looks so absorbed in what he's doing and he doesn't get annoyed about me thinking like he does when he's solving something. "I think there's a good one there about a death with suspicious circumstances."

"No, John. Waste of time." He told me.

"Oh. Sure." I sighed, I just wish sometimes he'd take my advice on cases, it'd be nice. Of course, he's the 'consulting detective' but I wish he took my opinion more seriously sometimes. Sometimes, I wish he didn't act like I didn't matter. I try not to take it personally though.

"You're not angry with me are you?" Sherlock said, sitting up bolt straight in a flash. "You sound annoyed."

"No, not at all. Maybe you should go back to talking to the skull. We obviously have a difference in opinions." Hopefully, he'd presume my tetchiness was down to my recent break up.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Never mind." I said shaking my head slightly, regretting saying anything.

"John I'm sorry if I've offended you, I had no intention of doing so." Sherlock sighed looking both anxious and confused, something quite unusual for him.

"Are you… apologising?" I asked, laughing.

"Maybe, a little bit." He said, looking down at his shoes, embarrassed.

"Next thing you'll be making me coffee."

"Why on earth would I make you coffee?"

"It's what you usually do when you apologise to me. Although, usually it's to drug me and run an experiment on me." I chuckled, remembering. "And I fancy a cup of coffee."

"Well, I guess I'd better bring you coffee. And, I won't try to drug you." He frowned, walking to the kitchen.

"Wear your hat." I called after him, as I took a seat on the sofa and scrolled through some of the possible clients.

"Absolutely not. I've vowed to never wear it again." He called back.

"Everyone seems to love it." I told him, reading a particular comment on one of the more recent posts on my blog.

"And you do to? Jesus John, what other strange fetishes do you have?" Sherlock asked walking back in with two mugs of coffee. "Oh, not like that." He added.

"Course not." I said, clearing my throat, trying to clear the sudden tension from the air.

"I fear you're implying something, John." He said handing me a mug of coffee.

"No, definitely not. You haven't drugged this?" I laughed, motioning to the coffee.

"It's not drugged!" He half shouted. Before taking a seat next to me and taking back the laptop. "What's this?" He asked, reading the comment I'd been reading for himself.

"I'm not sure what you mean." I frowned. Sherlock gave me a meaningful look. "It's just, a lot of people comment on my blog, thinking we're, well, uhh, gay." I blushed.

"I am…aware. So why focus on this comment John?" He asked, slightly awkwardly before going into solving mode.

"I just wanted you to be in the know, that's all." I said, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"No, you knew I know, so why focus on this?" He said concentrating. Luckily for me, he's never understood feeling or emotions.

"Will you please drop it, it's not important." I said getting up angrily.

"Will you stop being so childish?" He said grabbing my sleeve.

"Sorry, sorry." I said, sitting back down.

"John, be honest, why are you so upset. It can't be because of you and the one who was a closet lesbian." He pondered. "There must be something you hiding from me."

"It's sentiment, you wouldn't understand."

"You know I don't understand things like that."

"That's my point, even if I told you, you wouldn't understand."

"John," He said looking me in the eyes, clearly uncomfortable. "I'll try my best."

"It's just, you're my best friend and I don't like disagreeing." I said, lying smoothly.

"John, that's not what you want to say, I know it's not." He said, trying to sound considerate and caring but struggling.

"There's no point me telling you, you just wouldn't understand." I sighed.

"John, for goodness sake! I'm trying! For once, I'm willing to listen, take the opportunity." He said, obviously irritated at me denying his attempts at caring.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I decided to opt for the truth, there was no way of getting out of this. "Look," I said, my voice shaking a cold sweat forming on my brow. "After all this time, all this time, we've been through so much." I said, Sherlock nodded. "I think, it's just." Taking one last calming breath, stuttering slightly I looked straight into his eyes and I admitted the one thing I hardly even believed myself. "Sherlock, I, uhh, I love you." I said, blushing, wanting to look away but Sherlock's eyes holding mine.

"John," Sherlock sighed gently. "Oh, John."

"Don't. I don't want to know." I said, going to get up. He pulled me back down to the sofa and cradled my face gently looking in my eyes, something I never expected him to do to anyone, let alone to me. Smiling ever so slightly, Sherlock's face came closer to mine and he was pressing his lips to mine, gently, tenderly. Kissing him back, the kiss deepened, our tongues became familiar with each others mouths. This, I'd hated to admit it, was what I'd wanted from the first time I'd almost lost him. I've never wanted men before, never liked another man, until Sherlock. All to soon, he was pulling away, still holding my face, he looked at me, properly looked at me. "I've upset you, I'm sorry. I thought it was what you wanted when you said…" He trailed off. "I'm sorry, I'll go and give you time to yourself. I'm sorry." He said, going to get up.

Grabbing his arm and pulling him back to me, I smiled. "No, don't. I'm happy." I said, smiling, planting a gently, tender kiss on his lips.

"Happy tears? That's new." He said, wiping away a tear. I felt so idiotic crying but I couldn't help it, I couldn't hold them back.

"No, it's just new to you." I chucked, blushing and trying to hide it by taking a sip of the long forgotten coffee.

Half smiling, he looked at me, "I just don't understand." Chucking and shaking his head.

"What?" I frowned.

"How a simple, ex-military man…makes me feel so…strange." He said, placing his hand on the back of my neck.

"Maybe," I smiled. "I'm not as simple as you thought."

"I think you're right." He shook his head, smiling, the way he does when he thinks something's preposterous.

"But that made make you wrong. Surely not?" I teased.

"Stranger things have happened. I think we can both agree on that." He chuckled, looking down at me slightly, into my eyes. Flickering between my eyes and lips. Smiling, I let him pull me towards him and pull me in for another long, deep kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is currently a one shot but i will probabily make it into a short-ish story if people like this or want me to, so remember to review.**

**Oh and also; Disclaimer-**** i own nothing. **

I spent one entire year, trying to find someone to replace Sherlock, to fill that empty void but there's no-one else like him, and over the year the void grew and grew until it was physically painful. It wasn't until he was gone, that I realised just how much I cared for that man. I loved him and it had taken watching him fall to his death and being completely hopeless to stop it, for me to realise just how much I'd loved him. Life just isn't the same after Sherlock, nothing seems as spectacular as it did with him. A year I spent grieving and trying to get on with my life but every time I saw a tall figure with dark hair, a pair of pale eyes across the street or a long billowing coat, my heart fluttered and faltered only for me to crash back to earth with the realisation that he was really gone. That was until, he turned up on my door step, totally and completely alive.

Sitting in 221B, Baker street, I was writing my blog, no-one's quite so interested now that I'm not writing about Sherlock but some people still read it, in hope that one day he'll just turn up or I'll find some clue about why he did it, I guess. What I write is much more plain now, what I've been up to, how I'm feeling, what I was supposed to write when I started it. I was in the middle of writing a post when my phone buzzed. A text. "Come and open the door John." It read, Mrs. Hudson must have forgotten her key again. People found it strange that I continued to live here in 221B, but although at first it upset me, it held so many good memories of our glory days. And, Mrs. Hudson needed the company and honestly, so did I. As I pulled the door open a dark figure stood at the bottom of the steps to 221B but with the dark and rain, I couldn't tell who it was. With the door having opened they made their way up the steps, into the light of the hallway. "Hello John." He said. Before I even knew what I was doing, my fist was connecting with his jaw and he stumbled back slightly. "Jesus John! Well, I suppose I probably deserve that." He said walking into the house, up the stair and into the flat, holding his jaw. In a slight daze, I followed. "What? No hello?" He asked removing the coat and scarf I'd grown to miss getting in the way.

"You are supposed to be dead. What the bloody hell is going on?" I shouted.

"Yes, well. Clearly I'm not." Sherlock said, slumping into his seat, as if he'd never been gone.

"What the hell? How? You know what I don't even care how. _Why_ did you do it?" I asked, still stunned, holding back tears of anger, elation and sadness.

"It was for you, for your sake. I hope you can understand that." He told me, matter of factly, sitting forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"How is leaving me think, for an entire year, that you're dead, for my sake? Jesus _Christ._" I said,trying to adjust to this reveltaion and taking a seat myself.

"John, you have to know that I wanted to tell you but I had to be sure it was safe to come back, for you to know I wasn't dead." He told me

"But, I buried you. I went to your funeral." I exclaimed.

"Yes, so did I." He half smiled.

"Why have you come back? Why now? Why didn't you leave some sort of clue you weren't dead?" I asked, trying to understand.

"Like I said, I wanted you to be safe. If anyone were to find out I'm not dead before now, you'd have been killed." He said, looking me in the eyes, to measure my reaction. "I had no intention of coming back," He said, slumping backwards into a more relaxed position. "I was planning to stay away, it'd have been easier for everyone that way but I knew after a year it'd be safe if I came back and I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight my urge to come back. After all, you're my only friend John, I've missed you." He said, trying not to sound too emotional.

"And the real reason you came back?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's the truth." He said, frowning, not liking being challenged.

"Ok, the _rest_ of the reason you came back." I amended.

Sighing, he shook his head. "I've had Mycroft watching you. I'd hoped you'd get on with you life, move on and find someone, settle down. I knew you'd be better of without me but," He swallowed, "I was wrong. Mycroft said he could tell you weren't doing well, you were moping around. He said you went to see your psychiatrist and I knew then, I had to come back." He sighed.

"I've been fine without you, actually." I said, folding my arms across my chest, indignant.

"Really John? You're going to try and lie? To me of all people?" He chuckled softly. "You know, I wanted to tell you, before I just, turned up out of the blue like this."

"I'm glad you could spare a thought. What did you think would happen? You'd turn up and everything would go back to normal. Me and you, fighting crime, like nothing ever happened?" I asked, my anger suddenly returning. "Everyone thinks you're dead and who's going to trust you now you've faked your own death?"

"Ah yes, well. I haven't thought of that yet." He admitted.

"Sherlock, after watching you die, I realised how much I care for you and now that I can finally talk you again, see you again, all I want to do is punch you in the face and then cry from pure hatred and anger." I told him.

"Tears are useless John and I've let you punch me once, not letting you do it again." He said getting up. "I'd better call Mycroft, he'll sort this all out." Sherlock said, walking into his bedroom, untouched for just over a year.


End file.
